Page 9 of One Last Rodeo

“I know that. But why quit your job as a surgeon? You were good at it.”

Her expression lifts in something close to a smirk. “Ah, look at that—so youdoremember that I was the one who performed your heart surgery.”

My brows pull together.What the hell does that mean?

“Of course I do.”

“I wanted a change of scenery.” She shrugs. “That's why I joined the rodeo.”

And that tells me absolutely nothing. Or everything. Hard to tell with this one. She's closed off like a high security prison, and she doesn’t seem interested in changing that.

She squares her shoulders, trying to give off that tough woman vibe. I don't think I've ever talked to a woman as mean as her. She might have to be careful; my grandma's mean too and I love her more than life itself.

“Any other questions for me, Mr. Grant?”

I straighten because I'm not done grilling her yet. “Yeah. Come have a drink with me. Dinner’s done and we’re off the clock.”

She laughs. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re one of my athletes. That would be unprofessional. And I've already had a glass of wine.”

"You limit yourself to just one glass a night?"

"Most studies show that one glass of red a day is best for your heart’s health."

She would be thinking about what's best for her heart even when she’s relaxing and drinking. And there's a small—okay,anot so small—part of me that finds that wildly attractive.

“There’s nothing in the series rules saying I can’t have a drink with the team doctor.”

“No,” she says sharply, “but Iam new, and I’m not trying to raise any eyebrows if I'm seen having a drink with you after hours.”

“It's one drink. No brows raised. We'll stick to the private parts of the bar so that no one sees us.”

“No.”

“Next door then? No one’s over there. They're all asleep getting ready for tomorrow’s flight.”

She folds her arms. “May I ask what you’re trying to accomplish here, Jensen? You're awfully pushy.”

I exhale, jaw ticking. I don’t know how to explain it without sounding pathetic. And frankly, I'm not sure if I understand what pulled me over here to talk to her either.

Did I want to talk to the surgeon who saved my life?

Yes. I think.

Was I trying to avoid going back to my hotel room where I’ll lie on my back alone staring at the ceiling while the static in my head tries to swallow me whole until Noa texts our team’s chat and tells us to ‘wake our asses up so that we don’t miss our flight to Denver!’

Also, yes.

I'm lonely and bored, yeah.But I'm also curious. No one just up and quits their job as a heart surgeon to work for a rodeo. It sounds too much like a country song.

“It’s just a drink. I…”

Shit. What would convince her that it really isjusta drink? It's not like I want to sleep with the woman. She's kind of scary, not at all easy to talk to. Seems like she'd be a real tough fuck if I were thinking about that. But I’m not. I’m totally not.

And yeah, she's attractive. Beautiful, the more I stare into her eyes without the face mask and tight bun. But sex isn’t even a thought on my mind right now.